The Windmills Of Your Mind
by MistressSara
Summary: "A Wheatfield with Cypresses is a forgery. A good one, but it's clearly not the original." The young restorer spotted the fake, the art thief spotted the girl. Theirs would be a thrilling journey. Andith.
1. The Meeting

A Thomas Crown Affair reimagining… because why not? A little bit from the original, a little from the remake, a lot of my own, and that damn song stuck in your head every time you read the title.

**x-X-x**

Edith Crawley loved her job. Every day she woke up, navigated her bicycle throughout the streets of London, eventually arriving at her shared studio. There she would spend the hours of the day restoring works of art. It had started out as a side job and quickly flourished into a career, one that allowed her to work in solitary, alone with her paints and record collection. She would open the windows on sunny days and let the light fill her studio in the top floor of a building her father owned. Most days she would arrived with a new piece delivered for her attentions.

Today was a Leighton painting.

An Austen-esque painting, it looked like a scene from Mansfield Park with Edmund looking lovingly at Fanny. It was a lovely scene, one that Edith was pleased to be absorbed with all day.

It was a cool spring day, the rain had finally let up and the sun was beginning to peak through the clouds that lingered. Edith was pleased to open her windows as she slipped out of her houndstooth ballet flats. Her black trousers were tailored to her perfectly, paired with a silky lilac blouse. Today wasn't a painting day sadly, she had a meeting with the museum director, then another at a small gallery she was trying to convince to carry her original work. But first the Leighton would be assessed and notes made about what she would have to work on.

**x-X-x**

Anthony Strallan was in his usual spot that morning at the National Gallery. He had left his driver waiting out front, along with the rest of his cares, and took solace in the seat on the bench in front of A Wheatfield, with Cypresses by Van Gogh. It was the painting that held his eye this month, offering a bit of cheer after the long winter.

"Back again, Sir Anthony?" Came a voice from behind him.

"Can't help myself, Sir Richard." Anthony replied, slow to turn around and face the man. Richard Carlisle was a prick, one that most found difficult to put up with, Anthony much preferred to push his buttons. He was also the museum director, although no one was quite sure why as the man seemed to despise art. "What brings you to this wing today?"

"Meeting a young lady."

"Your wife is all right with that?"

"My wife's sister. Who also happens to be one of the restorers here."

"Which was she first?"

"Latter. I don't allow for nepotism, only favors."

"I often forget what a gentleman you are, Richard."

"Yes. Well, enjoy your gazing." Richard nodded, turning to leave the wing.

"Shall." Anthony muttered, turning back to the painting but suddenly finding his view blocked by a slender woman with light coppery hair cut short and curled softly. Her large brown eyes focused on the same painting he had been observing. "It's one of my favorites."

It took Edith a moment to realize she was being addressed, when she finally did turn she found herself compelled to smile at the blonde man behind her. He wore what she knew from a lifetime of being around them, a rather expensive three piece suit, and his tie nearly the same shade as her blouse. His blue eyes seemed to take her in just the way they would a painting, with a smile he slid over on the bench, allowing room for her to sit beside him.

"Sunflowers for me." She admitted with a small smile.

"Sir Anthony Strallan." He offered his hand.

"Lady Edith Crawley if we're using titles."

"Oh, you're Mary's sister."

"You know Mary?"

"Her husband. He was just through here waiting for you." Anthony nodded towards the hallway Richard had disappeared down.

"Oh joy, he'll be in a lovely mood then."

"Isn't he always?"

Edith laughed, realizing that he was still holding her hand. His eyes followed hers to where their fingers were touching and quickly let go. Both muttering apologies.

"I should probably go find him."

"What are you meeting about if you don't mind my asking?"

"I'm helping organize the Manet exhibit."

"Oh yes! I heard that there was something in the works. I look forward to it."

"As do I. Lovely to meet you, Sir Anthony."

"And you, Lady Edith."

He watched as she walked away before standing up, taking his briefcase in hand and strolling back outside to where his driver was waiting with the Bentley. As soon as he stepped outside his smile seemed to grow wider and wider, Lady Edith noticed, she must've. Which meant he found just the help he would need.

**x-X-x**

"Edith! It's about bloody time!" Richard greeted his sister-in-law, throwing his arm around her shoulder and leading her towards the roped off, empty hallway where they were intending to host the new exhibit.

"Richard—"

"Yes, I know, you're terribly sorry for being late."

"Well, yes, but—" She tried again.

"Not a problem, I've just been strolling through the halls like a commoner."

"Did you pass the Van Gogh?"

"I did, saw old Strallan musing it like he does every bloody day."

"Oh good, then you realize that it's a fake." Edith shrugged casually, continuing to walk on, leaving her brother-in-law stunned in her wake.

"What?"

"A Wheatfield, with Cypresses is a forgery. A good one, but it's clearly not the original."

"How-?" He stammered.

"No idea. Someone clever, clearly." Edith had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at Richard's reaction. She would need to find a way to meet Sir Anthony Strallan again and perhaps ask him how he managed the swap. There was no way he hadn't noticed, the man came day after day to stare at the fake, anyone who had study the painting that closely would have realized by now. The fact that he hadn't said anything meant one thing: Sir Anthony Strallan was the art thief that had been quietly plucking priceless treasure for the last 15 years. Edith felt certain she would be the one to finally catch him.


	2. The Party

Anthony Strallan lounged back in his office chair, gazing happily at the canvas now hanging in the hollow nook hidden above the mantel. When he pressed the button beneath the desk top the false screen would drop down displaying a simply painting of sailboats. But presently A Wheatfield with Cypresses, the real one, occupied the spot. As he reached for the tumbler of whiskey on the edge of his desk his smile grew into a grin, which morphed into laughter. Uncontrollable laughter. He was just so terribly pleased with himself, Richard had no idea the painting was a fake until now. He was certain the young Lady Edith pointed out the fraud to Richard by now. Even still, there was no way to tie the theft back to him.

Once he had himself under control his focus turned to a stack of mail left on his desk by his personal secretary Mrs. Jameson. Invitations, at least 15 of them, for the ever popular widower. The society widows all vied for his attentions, all of them failing. Along with the young climbers looking for a wealthy husband to take care of them. Anthony had no interest in them either, were he to ever wed again it would be to his equal. Speaking of which—

_You are cordially invited to celebrate the engagement of Sybil Crawley to Thomas Branson. To be held at the National Gallery on Friday the—_

"Oh, now that's just perfect." He laughed again, reaching for the phone.

**x-X-x**

"Edith I expect you there early, dressed appropriately, and for goodness sake wash that paint off your hands." Cora instructed her daughter while pacing around the small studio. The downside to renting space from her parents was that they had access to her at all times.

"What is appropriate dress?" Edith asked trying to stifle a sigh.

"Formal. That peach gown of yours will suffice."

Edith just nodded and continued to focus on the canvas in front of her.

"What else was I going to tell you?" Cora pondered aloud. "Oh, there was a package out front for you."

"What?" Edith knew better than to be surprised that her mother couldn't be bothered to bring the package in. It was a quick jaunt down the three flights of stairs and back up. It was a large box from a department store, something she didn't remember ordering.

Edith carefully untied the ribbon before slowly pulling the lid off. On top of the tissue paper sat a small card that simply read:

_If I may be so bold, wear this Friday?_

"Who is it from?"

"Unsigned." Edith shrugged, but she could guess from the AS embossed on the thick card stock. Beneath the silver paper rested a beautiful dark green silk gown. A thin halter strap held the beaded cups in place, the fabric was fitted down to the hips where the skirt flared out slightly to allow for walking comfortably. It was gorgeous and would fit her perfectly.

"Edith! Why is a stranger sending you a gown like that?" Her mother demanded.

"Friendly stranger." She shrugged with a smile. "Will this suffice?"

**x-X-x**

The night of the engagement party arrived rather quickly. Edith was still unsure what she thought of Anthony Strallan. It was a bold man to send such an expensive gift to a woman he had only just met. If he was expecting something in return he would be sorely disappointed. She would wear the dress just the same.

"Edie, what are you doing in there?" Sybil called from the bedroom.

"I'm almost ready, hold on!"

Such a dramatic dress required a bit of flair. Edith opted for large, soft curls and a slightly heavier makeup than she would normally use. Her eyes were lined heavily with smoky eye shadow, her lips were a deep, inviting red.

"Honestly, Edie, it isn't your engagement party!"

"I'm ready, I'm ready." With a deep breath she pulled the door open welcoming in her sister's opinion. "So?"

"Wow." Was all that Sybil managed taking in the image of her well dressed sister. The green silk dress fit her like a glove, providing a fair bit of cleavage, though not obscene. She had settled on a pair of strappy silver heels that added a few more inches to her height and kept the hem of the dress from dragging on the floor. "Did he send the shoes as well?"

"Thought of everything."

"What fun! Do you know who it is? Mother made it sound as though it was some psychopath."

"I've got it puzzled out, but I didn't want to tell her."

"SO?" Sybil seemed to be bouncing with excitement.

"Anthony Strallan."

"The one who went to school with father?" She seemed to fade for a moment.

"Don't say it like that."

"No, no. He must be marvelous if he's clever enough to start pursuing you. Next will be your wedding. Provided Mary doesn't beat you to it."

"I think her husband might mind."

"She's been stepping out."

"Let me be shocked for a moment." Edith managed with mock surprise.

"I know."

"Matthew again?"

"Of course."

"She needs to be careful."

"I've told her, you think she listens to her baby sister?"

"No more than she listens to me. I don't know why she does that to Richard. I know he can be a bit of a bastard at times, but I've always gotten on well with him."

"Well if things don't work out with Strallan and Mary divorces Richard you could be his third wife." Sybil laughed, reaching for the clutch and shawl she left draped over the edge of her sister's bed.

"Tempting." Edith wouldn't need a backup plan, she had very high hopes for Anthony.

**x-X-x**

The National Gallery was beautifully done up for the night. Cora Crawley had a marvelous gift for party planning and always enjoyed the opportunity to do so for her daughters. Thanks to Richard they were able to enjoy most of museum after hours, given a very strict promise that food and drink would be kept a safe distance from the art. The lighting was dim and a playlist of what Cora considered appropriate music filtered in through a relatively unused sound system. All of these details were lost on Edith who was busy trying to casually scan the crowds for her not-so-secret admirer.

"Edith!" Richard called to her from across the room, his wife on his arm and looking less than thrilled.

"Evening." Edith greeted dutifully, sparing one last glance around the hordes of people before focusing on the two in front of her.

"Wow." Gasped Richard as he took in the redhead's appearance.

"Seems to be the consensus tonight." Edith blushed.

"Really Edith, it's Sybil's night." Mary chastised, although her own dress was a fair bit more revealing than Edith's. The bright red was sure to catch the eye of a blind man.

"Let her be, she looks stunning." Richard cut his wife off, moving to guide Edith away. "I've someone for you to meet."

He led her through the crowds towards the bar where a blonde man was waiting. He was woefully underdressed in a black suit with no tie, it was a wonder Cora had let him in. Although as a friend of Richard it was clearly not a problem.

"DI Michael Gregson, this is Edith Crawley."

"Pleasure." The blonde man smiled, holding out his hand.

"Same."

"Gregson specializes in art theft and has been assigned to find my missing Van Gogh." Richard explained. "Edith here is the one who spotted that we had been duped."

"Good eye." The DI complimented handing her a glass of champagne.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then." Richard announced disappearing into the sea of people.

"Thank you. Is part of my trade though."

"What trade is that?"

"I restore paintings. Can spot a fake when faced with one."

"Yes, well, I wonder if you might take a stroll with me through the galleries one day. Richard would like to make sure there aren't any more."

"Of course."

"Lady Edith." Came a voice from behind her. A coy grin rose to her face, for a brief moment Gregson thought it might be for him but quickly found himself faced with her back.

"Sir Anthony." She felt a bit breathless at the sight of him in a well tailored tuxedo. Perhaps she could be convinced to let him help remove her dress.

"You look stunning. I thought we might take in a few paintings since we're here?" He asked, gesturing towards one of the nearby open wings.

"That would be lovely." She began to follow him when she remembered the DI. "Oh, Mr. Gregson, I'm sorry. Get in touch with Richard, we'll set up a time, yes?"

"Of course."

Edith turned back to Anthony, taking his offered arm and allowing him to guide her away.

"We'll be taking in the paintings, not taking them, right?" She whispered as they walked along the halls.

"Whatever do you mean by that, Lady Edith?" Anthony asked in a low, knowing tone.

With a wryer grin she pulled gently on his arm, leading him down another hallway that appeared rather empty. With a quick hand Anthony lifted a bottle of champagne from a passing waiter.

"We can share your glass." He offered.

"But first, tell me how you did it."

"Did what?" He tried with an innocent expression as he topped off her glass.

"We'll start with the Van Gogh."


	3. The Lovely Evening

"This one?" Anthony asked as Edith finally settled on a bench for them to sit on and enjoy their champagne.

"This one." She nodded taking a seat in front of the Manet.

"The Bar at the Folies-Bergeres?" He seemed a bit shocked taking the spot next to her. He refilled their shared glass before setting the bottle on the floor.

"I've always liked it."

"Tell me why." He coaxed with a smile, taking a sip before passing the crystal flute to her.

"She looks so dreadfully bored while everyone around her is having fun." After a sip and a laugh she added, "which is generally what I look like at parties."

"I'm afraid I don't see the resemblance. You, my dear, have more of a—hmm—"

"More of a what?" She asked nervously.

"I was trying to think of a painting that compares to you and not a single work comes to mind. Not even our skeptical barmaid at Folie-Bergeres." Anthony admitted.

"Well, I look a fair bit different tonight. Usually I'm holding up a wall in an adequate, mother-approved dress. Not having a casual chat with a dashing man who may also turn out to be a renowned art thief."

"I don't know about renowned." Anthony began slowly, momentarily distracted by a fleeting image of having Edith up against the wall. The green silk skirt hiked up around her waist while her legs wrapped around his waist. "Or art thief for that matter. I am a great art lover."

"I'm sure you're a great lover of many…" Edith suddenly flushed, realizing she spoke aloud, and took a gulp of champagne. "… Many works of art."

"I've seen a lot of art in my life. Paintings, sculptures, sketches, many of them beautiful, but as I sit here surrounded by tombs of work, I can easily say that you are the most beautiful creation I've ever seen."

"Dashing art thieves are suppose to be capable liars I suppose, but you're taking it a bit far, Sir Anthony."

"Nonsense." He replied firmly, taking her hand and setting the glass on the floor next to the rapidly emptying bottle. "In my many—many years on this earth, I have never seen a woman as beautiful as you."

She began to speak only to be cut off by Anthony reaching for her right hand and bringing it to his lips.

"Believe me." He smiled gently.

"You still haven't answered my question." Edith prompted with a blush.

"Which question? Ah, how did I steal the painting from the museum? Simple, I didn't."

"Someone did it for you?" He cocked a weary eyebrow at her, reaching for their drink again. "From what I hear you stop by to see that painting everyday and have done so for months. Someone with such a keen eye for art would have noticed that it was a fake."

"I did notice, but it's just bad manners to mention—" She gave him a doubtful look. "It gave me a bit of pleasure to know that Richard was boasting about what has turned out to be a forgery."

Edith couldn't help but laugh at his boyish grin and unabashed delight at pulling one over on Richard. She found she quite like Anthony smiling, he looked rather attractive to begin with, but the expression seemed to brighten his eyes. Without knowing much about his life, Edith was rather capable of spotting the marks of a kindred spirit. Yes, Anthony Strallan had suffered pain in his life, probably much earlier than one should, which would explain his second go at life now.

"Well?"

"Sorry, what was the question?"

"More?" He asked again, offering her the glass.

"Please."

"That's the last of it." He apologized, emptying the last of the bottle.

"We can split it." Edith offered with a smile, drinking half of the bubbly liquid in one go before passing the rest to him.

"I was going to say we could start another bottle."

"I won't be able to walk home if I have any more."

"Then don't walk. I can arrange a ride for you."

"You've arranged more than enough for me tonight."

"The gown?"

"Yes. It's lovely, I really—I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll sneak out of the party with me." He asked excitedly.

"Where would we be sneaking off to?"

"That, my dear, is a surprise." Edith stared at him for a long moment. She was already rather far out on this branch, might as well keep climbing.

"What are we waiting for?"

**x-X-x**

It had been rather easy to sneak out of the party. Anthony had taken her hand and carefully led her through the outskirts of the room, going largely unnoticed by most everyone, save for DI Gregson. He watched from across the room as the pair made their way towards a staff exit. As they slipped out of the door Edith managed to grab another bottle of champagne from a passing waiter.

"I thought you were done?" Anthony teased.

"Well, since you're kindly offering me a ride." She shrugged with a smile.

"Sir." Anthony's driver greeted from the curb at the back of the museum where he was waiting with the vintage, silver Jaguar. "Miss."

"You were planning to escape the whole time?" Edith asked, surprised that the man was already waiting for them.

"I had a rather hopeful hunch." Anthony grinned, opening the door for her.

They drove through the streets of London, Edith without a care in the world as to where they were going. It took her a few moments before realizing which direction they were going.

"What are we doing here?" Edith asked as the car came to a stop outside of the skyscraper.

"Thought we might take in the view." He shrugged, holding his hand out to her. She took it, allowing him to lead her from the car to the lobby.

"Can we get in so late?"

"You're in luck, I'm the owner."

Edith gaped at the back of Anthony's head as he continued to pull her towards the private elevator that would take them to the rooftop patio. There the whole of London could be seen, lit rather beautifully against the night sky.

"What a view." Edith marveled, completely unaware that Anthony was staring at her rather than the city.

"Indeed." He agreed, popping the cork on their stolen bottle of bubbly and pouring them both a glass. "To us, a lovely evening."

"A lovely evening." Little was Edith aware that across town, back at the museum a fire alarm had been triggered, the party evacuated, and another piece of art swapped out for a fake. All Edith knew was that Anthony's hand on her lower back felt divine and his lips against hers made it easy to forget about the rest of the world. "Perhaps a lovely night?"


	4. The Concept of Relaxation

In honor of the Andith-fest on Tumblr.

Also a reminder that a) this is clearly an AU with some OOC tendencies and b) this rated M for a reason… a delightful, delightful reason.

**x-X-x**

Edith was reluctant to wake, the bed she found herself ensconced in was so warm and comfortable, however the irritating trill of her cell phone left no other alternative. Her thoughts were sluggish to process the incoming information, the first of which was _this is not your bed_. Followed of course by _why does my head hurt _and _how did I end up here_?

"I'm begging you, answer that or turn it off." Came a voice from behind her.

Shifting beneath the heavy comforter Edith became aware of the fact that it wasn't just a blanket curled around her but the left arm of Anthony Strallan. Glancing behind over her shoulder she was met with a rather adorable baronet with his blonde hair mussed by sleep and seemingly content to spend the day dozing beside her.

"You'll have to let me go for either of those things to happen." She pointed out gently.

"Very well, but I do so under protest." He sighed, pulling his arm away and allowing her to get up. Her clutch was somewhere in the bedroom, it was simply a matter of following the ringtone. As she made her way towards the chair where her gown was draped across the back and her shoes were strewed haphazardly in front of.

"Hello?"

"Where on earth are you?" Came Richard's demanding tone.

"Where on earth am I supposed to be?" Edith questioned glancing at the clock on Anthony's bedside table only to become distracted by the fact that he was watching her closely. Glancing down she took into account that she was still wearing her lingerie from the night before. It was clear that nothing happened between them other than a great deal of champagne, a fair bit of snogging judging by her slightly swollen lips, and eventually sleep. Regardless, she was quite pleased that she had decided on her silver balconette bra embellished with black lace and the matching bottoms. Judging from Anthony's expression he was rather pleased with her selection as well. "It's only 5.30."

"Yes, but you were going to come in and walk the galleries with Gregson before opening."

"We hadn't agreed on a time."

"Yes, but after last night I asked Gregson to make this top priority."

"What happened last night?" Edith asked, her gaze narrowing on Anthony who continued to smile fondly at her.

"The mysterious fire alarm, the one that moved the entire party to the street. You're mother had a very public scene with the party planner. How much did you drink last night that you missed this?"

"I'm afraid I ducked out a bit early actually."

"Of course you did." The serious tone dropped as Richard chuckled heartily. "How could you not in that dress? Who's the lucky bastard?"

"None of your concern. Was there an actual fire?"

"A small blaze according to the catering staff but I found the story difficult to believe."

"Of course you did. I—uh—" Edith hesitated, watching Anthony pull back the covers on her side of the bed to try and coax her back. "I can't come in today, how about tomorrow?"

"Monday." Anthony whispered as she climbed back into the spot next to him.

"Monday." Edith quickly amended.

"Maybe Tuesday." He offered with a shrug and a kiss to her bare shoulder.

"Edith Crawley putting off work for a man? Well now you'll _have_ to tell me who charmed you to this extent!"

"Not going to happen. I'll see you Monday." Edith grinned, quickly ending the call and setting her phone aside. "The strangest thing happened after we left the gallery last night."

"Oh?" Anthony asked, snaking his arm back around her waist, pulling her down into the bedding with him.

"Yes, apparently a fire alarm went off—"

"Sensitive little devices."

"Indeed. The party had to be evacuated out onto the street."

"Hopefully your sister and her fiancé weren't upset."

"I'm sure Sybil was fine. So, if I won't be going into work this weekend what will I be doing?"

"I was planning on a quick jaunt to the country, perhaps you'd like to join me?"

"And what precisely will we be doing in the countryside?" Edith asked, tossing her phone aside and turning so that she was laying half on top of Anthony. He apparently got a bit further undressing last night than she did, clad only in a pair of blue boxers. It was difficult to muffle her moan at the feeling of her bare skin against his.

"Relaxation?"

"Sorry, not a concept I'm familiar with." She laughed, reaching up to smooth his hair back into place.

"It has taken many years, but I find it's rather enjoyable. Could go for walks?"

"I enjoy a brisk walk." Edith nodded, allowing herself to be pulled completely on top of him. The evidence of what might have occurred last night was pressing rather insistently against her stomach. With a coy smile she shifted against him, prompting a rather surprised moan as his hands gripped her tighter. "What else could we do to relax?"

"Oh—uh—," it was terribly fun to see his usual air of self-confidence and control slip for a moment as she pulled herself up a bit further so that she was straddling him, the contact enough to make them both groan in pleasure despite the layers between. "I have a rather impressive art collection that m- might be of inter- ah interest to you."

"We do have a shared love of art." Edith nodded, shifting so that her silk covered breasts were pressed against his bare chest. Her hands found his shoulders and she used his solid frame as leverage to begin rocking back and forth against him. "Perhaps we could come up with one more activity?"

"I'll think of something." He answered quickly before pulling her down into a kiss. The teasing words had become superfluous; he needed to taste her lips against his as he had a few hours prior. He behaved like a gentleman then, it was clear that she had had too much to drink, and while he willingly returned her kisses when her hands had sought out the buttons and zips that separated them he stopped her. Now was a different matter, now she was in her right mind again and, magnificently enough, still wanted him. In keeping with his less than gentleman-like behavior, his own fingers sought out the clasp of her bra. The garment was quickly undone and hung loose between their bodies.

Neither made any effort to remove any other article of clothing, mainly because that would mean parting from one another. Instead they both moved a bit harder against each other, Anthony couldn't help the surge of male pride he felt at the image he had been presented with. Edith had gone a bit red in the face with their endeavors while her soft curls looked rather wild as they tumbled down to her shoulders. With a soft groan she pulled herself back slightly to attain a better grip, it was the first glance he had of her bare breasts. The sight caused something in his head to shift and Edith suddenly found herself on her back with Anthony's mouth lowered to one mound of flesh while his fingers saw to the other.

"Anth—oh!" Was all she could manage as her hips reacted to the jolt of pleasure his tongue and lips were provoking. He rearranged their legs so that she could find a bit of friction against his thigh. The varying elements were enough to bring on a rather unexpected climax. Edith's head thrown back in pleasure, eyes shut, with his name on her swollen lips, mixed with the slow drag of his manhood against her still shuddering body was enough to leave Anthony disgraced in his boxers.

Anthony cried out both in disappointment and joy as his body betrayed him far too soon. The two fell motionless on the bed, Anthony moving to the side so that he wasn't crushing her, but leaving an arm draped just below her breast.

"I suppose that would be a relaxing way to pass the time." Edith mused breathlessly, lifting Anthony's arm for a moment so she could turn on her side and move a bit closer to him.

"I concur. Perhaps next time we could get a bit further."

"How do you mean?" She asked, her eyes glowing with mirth. Of course she knew what he meant, but the notion of hearing him whisper the words to her in that deep voice of his sent a shiver down her spine.

"I mean-," he leaned closer, pressing a kiss just below her ear, "next time I intend to taste you."

As he spoke a hand slid down across her waist and over the curve of her waist, discovering the top of her knickers. His fingers moved beneath the fabric, snaking through her curls, seeking out the moisture that had continued to grow. She gasped at his touch, her hands reaching for him, one landing on his shoulder and the other just above his hip.

"I'm rather keen to feel your-," he hesitated for a moment, either from a momentary bout of nerves or to maintain a bit of control, "beautiful legs over my shoulders."

His words alone would have been enough to bring her to completion again. In addition to her love of art, Edith had a great appreciation for a well-turned phrase. Though her lovers had been few, and to be frank few meant singular, she had discovered how exciting well-spoken words could be.

"More than anything though," Anthony continued, sensing how he was affecting her, "I'm looking forward to burying myself inside of you. Slowly thrusting into your—your tight heat. Would you like that, Edith?"

"YES!" Edith moaned, as he spoke one long digit slipped between her folds and demonstrated just what he was describing. It was more than enough. Had Anthony been a younger man the feel of her walls fluttering around his fingers would have been more than enough to bring him back to attention, as it was her pleasure took center stage. She fell limp against him, resting contentedly in his embrace.

"Have I convinced you of the merits of a trip to the countryside?"

"I suppose." She murmured.

Two hours and a quick stop at Edith's flat later, the pair found themselves speeding along the streets leading out of London in a charcoal grey, 1965 Austin Healey 3000. Edith could scarcely help the way her fingers trailed across the seats and the dashboard in front of her. A motion that wasn't lost on Anthony, who slowly pulled to the side of the road and engaged the break.

"What is it?" Edith asked, her first thought jumping to what they might get up to in the backseat. Her hand reached out and found his thigh, "bounced back?"

"I'll keep that in mind when we reach Locksley, but no, I thought you might like to drive?" He offered, opening his door and climbing out so that she could slide behind the wheel.

"Really?" She questioned as he rounded the car and took her now vacant seat.

"Really." He grinned at her stunned expression. "You do know how to drive, yes?"

"Of course, but—well, it's only fair to tell you that I have a bit of a lead foot. Father refused to let me drive anything other than a bicycle after I borrowed his Aston Martin."

"Was the car still in one piece at the end?"

"Of course, the car I was racing against not so much." She blushed, glancing away.

"Perhaps we can forego racing, but feel free to open her up a bit."

"If you insist."

As Edith swiftly maneuvered them back onto the road and her foot found the gas pedal, Anthony quickly realized that he might come to regret his words.


End file.
